


Let me see your hand, Show me what you got

by evieoh



Series: Do You Feel It? [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Season 3 AU, and a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 02:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14094621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieoh/pseuds/evieoh
Summary: He fought so hard to get clean. Four bullets to the side and the way she stepped over his body without looking back should have been enough to cure him of this longing for her forever. But even after everything - after everything with SHIELD, with Kara, after he was so convinced that he was ready to go out with as big of a bang as he could manage, here she is and he is brought to his knees by her again. She is a fever in his blood. He should have known - he is an addict and it is never just one taste.SkyeWard smut in an AU season 3. Sequel to "We gotta have it, We have no control"





	Let me see your hand, Show me what you got

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, my previous account was hacked and all my fics deleted, so I am reuploading them all now. This fic was originally posted in January 2016.
> 
> Sequel to "We gotta have it, We have no control" - reading that first might make some things make more sense.  
> Comments are amazing things that make my day, so if you feel up to it please do :)
> 
> Hugest thanks again to stargazerdaisy for fixing my run-on sentences and making sure I don't use the same word 80 times. (And also because it is beginning to seem like without her I would be unable to actually get these characters naked.)

He isn't even particularly surprised when he walks into the safe house and finds Skye waiting in his bedroom.

Ward has no idea how she found the place, how she got in without setting off any of the security measures, but there is a feeling of inevitability as they stare at each other across the room. Despite what they said after they finally got out of that goddamn hellhole, he didn't really believe that it was never going to happen again (even though he could barely believe it had happened the first time.) Judging by the look on her face now she knew it then too. A kind of resigned determination sets her jaw as she looks back at him from where she lounges against the opposite wall.

The moment he finally had her he knew he it was never going to be enough. He is an addict and she is the finest drug he has ever known. His need for her ( _for her love_ ) is still the strongest thing he has ever felt.

He fought so hard to get clean. Four bullets to the side and the way she stepped over his body without looking back should have been enough to cure him of this longing for her forever. But even after everything - after everything with SHIELD, with Kara, after he was so convinced that he was ready to go out with as big of a bang as he could manage, here she is and he is brought to his knees by her again. She is a fever in his blood. He should have known - he is an addict and it is never just one taste.

Shrugging out of his jacket as he walks towards her, he stops only to put his post-mission beer down on an end table before removing the two blades tucked into his sleeves, the gun in his waistband and the knife strapped to his right ankle, finally pulling off his boots before standing again.

She raises an eyebrow at the small arsenal formerly concealed on his body, but otherwise doesn't comment.

In fact, she hasn't said a word since he walked in.

Ward leans against the wall and raises an eyebrow at her before taking a deep swallow from his beer.

"Breaking and entering now are we?"

He wants to call her Skye again, maybe just to piss her off. ( _Just because she will always be Skye to him._ ) But he doesn't want to give her an excuse to leave before he gets to touch her again. So he doesn't call her anything.

She's not in tac gear this time. Clad instead in a knit top and jeans, she looks more like the girl on the BUS than he has seen her in years, even with the new hair.

( _He tries so hard not to think of his role in the disappearance of that girl. Of the jagged edges his betrayal tore from her. Of the sharp pieces she was left with to rebuild herself._ )

She walks towards him, slow and deliberate, he can't keep his eyes from following the curve of her hips as they sway lightly, and from the faint smirk gracing her lips she knows it.

She reaches out and takes his beer from him, her fingers brushing against his and sending a flare sparking through his nerve endings all the way to his heart. ( _He wonders if it is her abilities, or just_ her _, the effect that she has always had on him._ )

He watches her throat as she swallows, entranced by the movement, by the condensation on the bottle, by the dark smudge of her eyelashes as her eyes close. His world has shrunk down to only the smallest details. Nothing can enter his mind but the heat of her body so close and the smell of her, driving clear thought processes from his mind.

She opens her eyes and meets his stare, unblinking, unforgiving. Not giving anything away. ( _He remembers when she was his rookie. Her guilelessness then. How hard he tried to train it out of her and now it **aches**_.)

"Should I leave?" She challenges, her tone and expression showing clearly how aware she is of  _his_  reaction to her.

He leans forward in answer, taking the bottle from her hand and placing it back on the ledge, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

His reply comes forth without clear consideration - and if he had thought, he would have thought better of it, of exposing such weakness to her. But he doesn't think, he just leans closer and murmurs against her lips, "Never."

He feels her shudder as she leans into him, her mouth opening beneath his. She groans ( _or was that him?_ ) as his tongue strokes hers, her arms coming up to rest across his shoulders, one hand reaching up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer. He goes willingly, unable to stop from pouring himself into the kiss, mouth open and hot against hers, trying futilely not to show her how much he is hers, for her to use as she pleases. He has no defenses against her anymore, he will follow wherever she takes this.

Her teeth on his lip, biting just hard enough that he knows it's deliberate, a feral glee in her eyes as she pulls away to catch a breath before he is pulling her back to him.

His hands are in her hair, cupping her jaw, stroking her neck, he wants to touch every inch of her, possess every inch of her. He feels needy and embarrassed at how little he is managing to hold back of his eagerness for her.

But she is meeting his passion with every breath, using the arm around his shoulder to brace herself as she basically climbs his body, her legs wrapping around his waist as she grinds against him. His hands drop to support her automatically, sliding down the curve of her ass as he spins them around, pinning her body between his own and the wall before bending his head down to press open mouthed kisses against her jaw and down her neck, biting gently when he reaches her clavicle.

He wants to leave a mark on her skin that can't be explained away. Some part of him that she cannot walk away from, he wants her to carry him with her wherever she goes. The way he has carried her, another jagged scar that brands his skin. His weakness.

The heat between the two of the has reached boiling point; her touch is feverish, frantic, as she grabs at the hem of his shirt, dragging it up to his shoulders as much as she can. Her hands are seeking every inch of exposed skin she can reach, nails scratching along his spine. He lowers her feet back to the floor and pulls the dark henley the rest of the way off and she is on him immediately, her tongue and teeth and nails upon his skin, biting his nipple just this side of roughly before moving back up to his shoulder, his throat. There is something in the way her mouth moves across his skin that makes him believe that she is just as lost to this fire that burns between the two of them as he is.

Ward slides his own hands beneath her top, pulling away from her to slip it over her head before leaning back in to press open-mouthed kisses down the length of her throat. Mouthing at her nipples through the lace that covers them, pressing a soft kiss to each rib as he passes them, reaching down to pop the button at her waistband.

Dragging her jeans and underwear down and following them to the floor, sliding one boot off and then the other, kissing the arch of her feet as he lifts them to peel her jeans the rest of the way off.

He kneels before her like a supplicant, sliding his hands up her thighs, brushing lightly against the curls at their apex and causing her to inhale sharply as her hand reaches down to clasp him by the hair, trying to drag him to where she wants him. He goes willingly, pulling one of her legs across his shoulder for balance.

Sliding his tongue through her slick folds, tasting the honey of her, breathing her in and pouring as much of his doomed love into this kiss as he can. He knows that if he ever tried to say the words aloud she would run, or maybe he would wind up sporting a few new holes in his torso, but this he can do. He can trace his love onto every inch of her body, count it in every sigh and moan that escape her.

She came here for this, she came here for him. As much as he knows she will deny it to herself forever, and she will run from this room the minute she has taken her fill of him, he knows now that there is something in her that craves him just like he craves her.

They are in each other’s blood and nothing will ever get them out. He has accepted this, he will never not want her. He will never feel sane without the taste of her on his tongue. There is a sense of relief in giving himself over to the insanity, the inevitability.

He will gladly pay that price, live a lifetime (however long his might be) of this madness, of this wanting, for these moments where he can watch her fall apart beneath his mouth. He sucks hard on her clit and feels her fingers clench in his hair in answer, hips stuttering in response beneath his grip.

Looking up at her he sees she has her other hand cupping her own breast, the lace cup of her bra pushed down as she pinches her nipple roughly between her thumb and forefinger. He groans against her at the sight and her eyes meet his, her eyes hooded and dark, her pupils blown wide. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair wild from his earlier attentions, and she has never looked as beautiful to him as she does in this moment.

He holds her gaze as her breathing quickens, his already rock hard cock twitching almost painfully at the sounds that escape her as he fucks her with his tongue, their connection only broken when her eyes fall closed as she shatters beneath his mouth with his name on her lips.

His own breathing is harsh and uneven, his pulse skittering as he comes down from the high of her pleasure on his tongue. She is slumped bonelessly against him, the leg hooked over his shoulder and his hands on her hips the only things holding her upright.

After her breathing finally returns to something resembling steady she untangles her body from his and leans down to grab a condom out of the pocket of her discarded jeans before turning back to where he is still slumped against the wall trying to regain his breath.

Smirking down at him, looking surprisingly composed for how wrecked she sounded only minutes before, she asks with a raised brow, "You need another minute or are you ready to go old man?"

He huffs a laugh despite himself, ducking his head to hide his grin, unbuckling his belt as he stands.

Taking the foil wrapper from her outstretched hand he turns her body away from his so her back is against his chest, leaning down to press his mouth against the curve of her throat before walking her towards the bed. His hands slip up her back and unhook her bra, pulling it softly down her arms, then dropping it among the other discarded clothing.

She climbs onto the bed on her hands and knees with a backward glance at him over her shoulder, the heat still flaring in her gaze causing his hands to stutter as he pushes his jeans down and steps out of them, glancing away from her only to roll the condom on his dick before climbing onto the bed behind her.

He runs his hands, palms flat against her skin, the full length of her back, before gripping her hips with one hand as he guides himself inside her. He slides in slowly, releasing a breath he didn't even realize he was holding as he bottoms out. His pulse is hammering, blood buzzing as he adjust to the heat of her, the feel of her as she clenches around him.

He pulls almost all the way out of her before sinking back into her, the frayed edges of his sense of control ( _of his sanity_ ) demanding that he take this slow. Savor this moment.

"More." She demands, her voice aiming for firm but landing somewhere a little more breathless. But he continues thrusting shallowly into her, enjoying her frustrated whimpers as she tries to push her hips back against him only to be held in place by his iron grip.

Until he glances up and catches her eye in the mirror across the room. The wanting in her face as she watches the two of them steals his breath and he falters, his hips jerking roughly against her. Her eyes close and she bites her lip hard before meeting his gaze again, licking her swollen bottom lip deliberately as she rolls her hips back against his.

He loses whatever small semblance of control he was clinging to by his teeth, slamming his hips against hers, lost in the sounds of her breathy moans and the way she clenches around him. Time ceases to have meaning, his entire world shrunk down to the feel of her body against his, of her muscles clenching around him and the way she looks as he pushes her toward the edge.

His hands are gripping her hips hard enough that he is sure there will be bruises as he falls apart. His hips jerking against hers as he loses any sense of rhythm, voice hoarse as her name falls from his lips.

Falling forward, his body is pressed against her back and his face nuzzling her hair. Ward takes a few shuddering breaths, struggling to regain some sense of control over his limbs again, before reaching his hand around her to press his thumb against her clit, rubbing against her until she is shuddering and moaning his name brokenly as she comes again. They collapse against the sheets together, bodies still entangled and breathing ragged against each others sweat-slick skin.

 

* * *

Hours later he is tracing the curve of her spine as she dozes beside him. He still can't believe she is still here, that she didn't run for the door the moment her afterglow began to fade. But here she is, tucked into his side, her face resting beside his on the pillow, her warm breath brushing against his cheek. He is exhausted (the mission that brought him here was not exactly a walk in the park...and then her) but he can't seem to bring himself to close his eyes. He is too afraid that he will open them and she will be gone again; that she will have never been here in the first place.

He is so captivated by her bare skin in the soft glow of the lamp that when he glances back up and finds her eyes open and watching him he can't be sure how long she has been awake.

She doesn't speak for a long moment, just stares at him, her face impassive and half hidden in shadow. He has so many things he wants to say, so many ways of begging for her love, but he can't bring himself to break the stillness of the moment. ( _He can't bring himself to force them back to reality, to the world where she is the hero and he is the villain and this night is just an aberration. A small taste for him to keep himself warm._ )

So he just stares back. Their gaze unblinking and their breath mingling. Slowly she brings her hand up and runs her fingertips along the sharp edge of his cheekbone, scratches her fingernails lightly through his stubble, before sliding up and into his hair. Her touch is soothing and he feels himself leaning into it, and he is beyond caring about how vulnerable he is making himself by revealing how submissive he is to her.

Finally she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper but her tone surprisingly sure, "I do get it now, you know?"

She must see the confusion in his face as he tries to decipher her words because she continues without any prompting, "What you said. That day on the BUS. I understand."

And he knows, somehow, despite how many days, how many conversations they had on that plane. He knows exactly which one she means. ( _Can still feel that panic lodged beneath his ribs, that desperation to make her understand, to not lose her even as she flinched away from his touch_.) But there is some kind of a disconnect in his synapses, he knows what she is saying but he can't make sense of it. He can feel that violent hope blooming in his chest even as he struggles to put her words in order.

Her hand is back on his cheek again, pulling his gaze back to meet hers, "I don't know if I can truly forgive you for what you did to us. I can't say sorry for the things I did to you. Not yet, at least. But I understand. I know how you ended up where you did and I understand why you felt those were your only choices."

He feels pressure on his chest, and it takes him far too long to realize it is because he needs to breathe. His thoughts won't form cohesion, there is a warmth in her eyes and something deeper she is clearly trying to convey despite her words about forgiveness. He feels wrecked, the temporary peace of just moments ago is gone and he feels the weight of this conversation, the fork in the road they are standing at right now. Their future is hanging in the balance, waiting for his words to tip the scales in either direction.

"If I could go back, if I could change everything, I would never leave that day after the battle at the Hub." He pauses and continues in a ragged whisper, "I knew that first instant you kissed me. I knew there was another choice. I should have chosen to stay with you and let them take Garrett to the fridge without me.”

"Maybe we don't have to go back," There is something in her tone that makes him wonder if she isn't just talking about their tortured history, something that causes something hard inside him to break and every bit of hope and longing that he had managed to contain until now is free. Flowing through him, infecting every cell of his body, until he feels as though his blood is buzzing with his devotion to her.

"I’ve been thinking about something someone once told me, about everyone needing an exit strategy eventually. I couldn’t imagine it at the time… But now? I don’t know anymore. Maybe it’s time to try and get out. Maybe we could start over... Away from everything else. Be new people, start fresh. See who we really are now."

He notes the flinch she tries to conceal as her voice fades away, he wants so desperately to ask what has changed; why is she here? Is she really willing to walk away from the team, from her family? What could have happened to change her mind so completely?

But he can see the hesitance still in her gaze, so he leaves it for now. He simply pulls her into his arms so her head is resting above his heart and presses a kiss into her hair hoping that she can feel every word of his devotion that he cannot say aloud in the trembling of his arms around her.

And for the first time in so long he has hope; maybe this really is the beginning of everything. They will talk about what happened with Garrett, what happened with the team. She can tell him what happened that day in Puerto Rico, what she found when she discovered her parents. They can show each other each and every scar and open wound that exists upon their souls and maybe  _together_ they can finally begin to heal. They could find some little corner of the world just for the two of them and learn what life is like when you can just live instead of struggling to survive.

Ward doesn't know what the future holds. He doesn't know that she won't change her mind, that he won't wake and find her gone. But in this moment, he feels that everything he has ever wanted is possible.

He falls asleep with the woman he loves in his arms, the promise of a future on her lips.


End file.
